


Just Harry And Draco

by pottahmalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Comfort Sex, Gay Sex, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Oh My God, Room of Requirement, Smut, Top Harry Potter, angsty draco and harry but not too much, angsty fluff (is there such thing?), angsty sex, hogwarts past, traumas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 18:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30076500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pottahmalfoy/pseuds/pottahmalfoy
Summary: Draco and Harry navigated their traumas in the arms of each other.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 23





	Just Harry And Draco

Harry didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know what pushed him. He didn't know how it happened. He just saw black and the next thing he knew, he shoved him inside the room of requirement.

Panting, he looked at the shivering boy. Scared and utterly in chaos. His mind stuck to everything that had happened, in his life and in this lifetime and Harry felt very much the same. His body felt so exhausted and just wanted to give up.

All he went through, he never did. He never gave up, he fought and fought some more. He protected and save everyone but who saved him? Who will save him? He feel so useless now that he had nothing to do. He didn't know who to reach out, he just felt so incomplete. He knew his body is searching for something, trying to have one thing to hold on to. One to remind him he's still the Harry Potter that Hogwarts seen seven years ago. The Harry Potter who smiled and took happiness in playing Quidditch and took delight winning house cups.

But who was he kidding? He's changed. He's Harry, he's still Harry but not the Harry he wants. All of him stuck in that time where he saw nothing but dead bodies, Savior of the Wizarding World, he can be. But Savior of Himself, no.

How people who fought for the light for the hopes of not having to experience the dark past and have their own better tomorrows, a good future for their children, a good place to stay. But tragedies must come to greet them, fetch people and kill them. How was he called the Savior of the Wizarding World? When he cannot even save himself?

All the guilt and conscience is swallowing him whole. All the scrap of beautiful daylights torn apart and he was in a place darker than dark, bluer than any blues. 

He disguised himself with feigned nonchalance as he slid down beside the shuddering blonde boy who as much experience the worst of Harry's enemy, the Dark Lord buried beneath the ashes of before and yet very much alive in his skin, taunting him with sorrows and nightmares, hunting him with unwanted voices, and torturing him with memories that did nothing but kill him slowly.

He knew he was Draco Malfoy no more. He held the name but not the identity. He held the name but not the man. He held the name but not ounce of the Malfoy Heir. He blinked. Why was he here? What was he doing?

"I hate you" Harry spoke, voice so sullen Draco had problem recognizing was Harry's own. If he speak and tell him the same, what voice would he use? 

"I hate you, Malfoy" he whispered and Draco nodded, he hate himself too. 

Harry stared at the floor, watching the room produce a bed, for what he didn't know and he didn't care. He just wanted to pour his bottled emotions inside, direct them to the person beside him who hugged his knees to his chest, body swaying a bit, hands shaking so bad, Harry was scared.

"Did you have it bad?" he asked, clenching his jaw not out of anger but to quell the tears trying to gather in his broken eyes, clouding his sight. He wouldn't let it fall, not to the floor and definitely not in Draco's presence.

He doesn't know what to specifically call him neither to himself. They are not themselves anymore, are they?

He knew, he knew how bad Draco had it but he wanted to hear it from himself. Listen to him say and hate him for it, not for any good wit but to any unreadable madness.

"What did he do to you? Shit on you?" Harry insanely asked, voice growling a bit. The lunacy of what's happening is deranging the both of them, pushing them into the kind of mania they run away from the beginning only to end up just the same.

Draco shivered and Harry heard him took a sharp breath, his shoulders shaking. He is crying but why would he? How could he cry? Harry cannot even let the tears fall in his eyes, cannot even produce enough to be sobbing.

"P-potter" Draco's voice is something Harry had never heard. It wasn't just broken, it was lifeless and lifeless only. No tone, no sneer, no slurs, lifeless. Lifeless in a way that seemed as if it did not have life in the first place.

It was flat, not mournful or sorrowful. It was demised.

"I am no Malfoy" his voice devoid of any indication that held Draco Malfoy for the past years. It was a new one, new man with a rough beginning.

"And I am no Potter" Harry didn't hate his name, he didn't loathe it as much as he loathed the man who killed his parents but he loathed the tragedy, the history, and the story that brought him to where he is now.

Why did the killing curse didn't kill him? Because Harry is killing himself, bit by bit, until his breathing stops and give death what it wanted. 

Harry felt him raised his head up and turned at him so he locked back. He was so skinny but no longer pointy. He was a man but still was just a boy. His hair messy, his face deathly pale, and his complexion defunct. His collarbone sticking out and neck so thin. The Boy Who Had No Choice who but all wasn't thinking.

Draco looked at those emereld eyes, once was so intense and now so fallen, gone, and sad. He was a boy who was forced to be a man. The responsibility he had to carry, willing or unwilling, drew the shine away from him. Snatching chances of redemption, of moving on and forward, of the life he should have. The Boy Who Lived who but all wasn't living.

Two sides from two different wars, two boys with dark shadows, two stories with a bloody mark. It's no wonder why they hate each other. Two lives lost in the war of power and now, the last bit of sanity losing the battle of the mind. Even obliviation won't work. 

_"I hate you so much"_ Harry mumbled, their eyes glued to each other. Draco sighed and nodded, "I know, I know", he whispered.

 _"I hate you too"_ he added lowly and Harry nodded back. They are both so messed up.

Seconds turned into long minutes to burning ones. Harry blinked first and Draco followed. They weren't thinking. Both of them letting go and forgetting what's outside of the room, of who they are and what they are. In this second, in the time they were staring at each other in the secrecy of what the room of requirement provided for them, they became just boys. Boys who were not in need of loving but embrace, to save them from drowning into fatal extinction. Just Harry and Draco, not Malfoy, not Potter.

Harry and Draco. Draco and Harry. Two boys who renounced who they were supposed to be and welcomed who they are becoming.

No one was sure who leaned in first, of who touch whose lips first but when they felt each others soft ones despite the roughness of their past. Draco found himself sobbing and Harry broke apart, his chest tightening and his tears flowed out.

It wasn't magical and heavenly, it wasn't beautiful, it wasn't cute but they knew, they both knew, it would be memorable.

They tasted each others tears, salty and full of scars, tearing them individually but drawing them to each other closer.

They moved in complete sync, for the first time since they met, pliant in each others arms. The kiss was slow, taking the time they weren't allowed to before, the feelings were overwhelming and pouring out. Harry tried to grip Draco's trembling hands tight but he was too tired to be able to so he held it weakly, their hands fitted perfectly, as they slowly pulled away from each other.

Harry rested his head on his shoulder. Tears now easily flowing when just a second ago, he was trying not to. He sobbed and clutched him tight. All those yesterdays drained him for his tomorrows and he sobbed and sobbed.

Draco let him as he clutched at him as much as his energy can let him and blinked his own tears away, feeling Harry's wetting his shirt. He didn't know what to feel exactly as he listened to Harry's cry who used to be unheard and now, found. It was the embrace they are sharing that Draco found himself appreciating, he held the moment tight to whatever left of his heart and took it as a leverage when this day is over and he'll find himself alone in his cold, dark room.

 _"I h-hate..you"_ Harry mumbled again, voice slightly muffled from Draco's shoulder. He didn't answer with his mouth but his mind, _I hate you too_.

They stayed at that position for minutes until Harry pulled away and smashed his lips once more and Draco quickly responded. Their tears glistening at the side of their own eyes as they closed it and met the dark that greeted them.

It wasn't obvious and even if it was, the both of them wasn't aware who produced the soft moan, who drew out the low sound behind the throat but one thing is for sure, Harry stood them both up and Draco obliged willingly. His hands clutching Harry's in a way bounded impossible years ago as Harry held back.

Together they found their way, together hand in hand, Draco lied on the bed and Harry followed. side by side, they held each other in their own embrace. Whatever kind of comfort, they didn't mind and just took what they can receive from each other.

Draco closed his eyes and let another tear flow as Harry started to kiss on his jaw, nibbling softly and feathery touches of his lips, feeling the bones beneath the skin and the rush of blush towards the south and in any direction it could flow. He didn't leave a mark, didn't leave a bite, didn't leave a claim, didn't anything but the vague promises that would come as they explore in each other's arms.

Draco gripped Harry's hand tighter and called out to him with a noise unrecognizable, he didn't know what to call him and certainly didn't want to moan his name especially when it is not them anymore.

"Mmm", he softly hummed, his hands beginning to run down Harry's, feeling how sickly he felt under his clothes. They were both too out of energy but didn't want to stop as Harry kissed on his sharp collarbone, the one emphasizing his apparent transformation.

 _"I hate you"_ Harry whispered and Draco felt a tear land down on his throat and he didn't mind as he was breaking in the own sheets.

In a second that separated them, they each vanished their shirts and Harry laid his head back down to Draco's arms, his fingers running over the scar he knew he caused and he teared some more.

How unlucky they were to be in a world they both hated, to be in the arms of who they despised, to be kissing with tears and glistening sadness.

Suddenly, they felt their before and tomorrows vanished at the same time their eyes met once more. There is only the currently, the present, and the now.

 _"I hate you so fucking much"_ Harry's voice broke and he sighed, his hand going back up and cupping Draco's cheek and nudged into it, the heat of his hand opposing the coldness in their lives. 

_"I h-hate you too"_ Draco tried to speak and blinked. His eyes caressing Harry's and they leaned their forehead on hear other, as their hands begin to explore each other's body.

Draco felt Harry's spine in his palm, how it was so apparent in his skin, feeling scars and scars who held its own tales, the mark of his vague survival, the mark of the pain he went through and the mark that came with being Harry Potter. Draco treated his body gently, fingers sliding down slowly, exploring every corner of his upper body, intentionally avoiding the rib cage that felt as if it was gonna fall out. At the end, Draco settled his hands to Harry's sharp jawline, the only thing that was left healthy to the eye, he petted it gently, his thumb brushing any imaginary creases and visible tensions of being a broken boy.

Harry, trailed his fingers to the dip of Draco's chest, it looked awful but it looked Draco for him. The boy who was looking back at him, cupping his jaw, their noses faintly brushing each other, inhaling each other's scent. Draco smelled green apples and no future and Harry was sure he himself smelled treacle tarts and agonizing finality.

His hands went at the flat of his stomach, thin, as if it had no room for internal organs and no food to digest. It was moving, breathing, but not once did Harry felt meaning. His hands traveled to the side of his waist, going to his back and explored the flatness against his palm. There was no serious insight to dig and see, no perspective to share but Harry and Draco. Two boys, just two boys who lost who they were and neglected who they really are. Two boys with no names for each other. Two boys. Just two boys.

It was silent around them, but their bodies weren't. It sang them melodies that were unheard of, unrhymed and no visible beginning and end. They both listened to it, singing through their caresses, dancing through their movements and Harry with a touch of his wand, vanished their pants with a nod from Draco.

They weren't hard behind their boxers. No lust between them, no desire, but it wasn't difficult to roar it to life as Harry closed his eyes, nuzzling his nose to the boy he claimed he hated, he palmed him.

He wasn't even aware of what he's doing and Harry felt the hardness began to throb through Draco's and he did too. With Draco's surprisingly warm hands, he breathe deeply, their faces so close with each other, breathing the same air for a different purpose.

They caressed each other out. Low noises of slight satisfaction going out of their lightly parted lips. They both didn't feel the throes of gratifying pleasure as their dorm mates have said. They didn't feel the ecstasy or the sweet indication of the flavory action. There wasn't any of those. Not a single one, not a bit.

What they felt was peculiar. Different from others. New and unusual. It was a little bit of relief with the mixture of saved grudges, dawning on them as they tried to relive a happy situation but failed. With the last touch of Harry's wand, he disappeared their boxers and were left naked as a blank wall. They bared themselves to each other, in a way they were too insecure to do before. In each other's arms, they discovered there weren't any secrets painful to say, there weren't any thoughts to sharp to tell, there weren't any issues too hard to speak. They knew, they understood, and they saw.

Their bodies slim and petite, small. After all, they were still boys.

Harry started to trace Draco's ass, finding his crack and lubing it wandlessly and wordlessly, used the remaining energy of his magic, something he will willingly drain for this moment.

He fingered him slowly, Draco letting out calm sighs after sighs, their eyes still closed. Taking in the time they have for each other, the time are are putting to each other and the time they are sharing to one another.

Harry wrapped his other hand around his shoulders, trying to turn him into his back but Draco refused.

"N-no...I w-want, want to.." he trailed off and Harry didn't need him to finish. He closed the remaining distance between them, lifted a light leg to his waist and slowly tried to enter him.

"hmm", Draco said and tightened his hand on his jaw as Harry started the unhurried thrust. He was tight but good. Good. _Good._

Harry held Draco's hands and pulled it away from his jaw, entertwining it on his own, he kissed the back of their hands, together.

There was no rush between them, in their actions, whatever this is they did, it wasn't that bad. For at long minute, they finished and stayed still contentedly. Not separating because they don't want to but because it was an action to shove the ideals forced into them, an action to oppose the traditions set by the Malfoy name and an action to curse the Dursleys' standards.

But it wasn't just about those.

This was about two boys who navigated their traumas in each others. Two boys who hated each other and ended up in the room where it provided them what it thought they needed and they really did. Two boys who leaned on each other, accepted each other's embrace and as they hugged each other, they started something as a stepping motion. For the road they'll take for whatever will happen when they step out of this room if they will be stepping out of the room because the boys knew, if they ask the room to kill them, it will. It will grant them their wishes and there will be no more Potter and Malfoy.

But there was no need for that. They were breathing but there is no longer Potter and Malfoy nor Malfoy and Potter.

They were Harry and Draco. Two boys who spelled their name out for a new one.

No Malfoy. No Potter. 

Just two boys. _Just Harry and Draco._


End file.
